The World According To Me
by silverrowan
Summary: A newbie LARPer rescues a baby from a burning cottage minutes before a half-giant stumbles into the fallen building. "Huh, wonder how many points this heroic act gets me?"


SUMMARY: A newbie LARPer rescues a baby from a burning cottage minutes before a half-giant stumbles into the fallen building. "Huh, wonder how many points this heroic act gets me?"

AUTHOR'S NOTE: In commemoration of the last movie of this epic series, I decided to start a new fanfic. My apologies to all Elements fans – I reread the series last week and realized that the foundation is just too badly tacked together. Random volcano eruption on a Hawaiian vacation? I don't know what I was thinking. Also, none of my OCs were even remotely developed. A major thanks to all the reviewers who still stuck by me out of curiosity about the plotline though. It is due to you that I decided to dig myself out of my readership-only hole and take up writing again. Hopefully, the fic this time around will be all that much better due to all that reading and learning. I can only try.

DISCLAIMER: I do not own HP. Also, I do not LARP – after researching what I can about it online, I hope to deliver an adequate rendition of a LARP event. Note that most of the holes are filled in by my imagination so if you are a die-hard LARPer, forgive me if it isn't the most realistic scenario in the world.

The World According to Me

A Quest Most Tiresome

"Thank you good sir," the princess curtsies.

"You're most delightfully welcome, your highness." He bowed in return. "It is a lowly fighter's honor to serve the princess of this realm."

Nearby a bell rang and their audience, a wide array of people dressed in medieval gear and brandishing foam weaponry, applauded. Event over, the warrior – Michael Faulk—relaxed and turned to walk towards his longtime friend Sarah Dawkins who was waving frantically in a corner. Somehow or another, he had been dragged into a live action role-playing (LARP) event by Sarah, who had pleaded with him continuously about participating in her new obsession that he finally gave in so he could have some peace. Despite being a devout RPG gamer though, Michael still wasn't sure how he feels about actually enacting scenes and playing out a character.

"Hey," Sarah grins as she jabs his side when he reached her.

"Oww," He moans theatrically, "My dearest lady, whatever did I do to offend you?"

Sarah merely lifted a chin and sniffed delicately, "For winning an adventure as a beginner and making me look bad of course. You haven't been secretly attending events behind my back have you?"

"Me? Are you serious?" Michael rolled his eyes. "Until yesterday, I lived and breathed purely by the workings of my computer. That was just beginner's luck – right place, right time."

"If you say so but I still think you have a knack for this." Sarah flung out a hand and gestured vaguely at the whole event. "So what do you think, thrilling, fun, awesome? Feel like coming back for more?" There was a gleam in her eyes that reminded him vaguely of a cat that was eagerly awaiting a rat descending into its paws, the gleam of anticipatory victory.

"It's not as bad as I thought," Michael replied noncommittally as Sarah let loose a triumphant crow. "But –" he held up a hand forestalling any more celebratory gestures "—I'm not committing to suddenly becoming a regular and setting up sewing playdates with your friends. It's fun but the gameworld here is still so restricted – there's too many things I wish I can do but I just can't so this just doesn't hold much appeal for me. Sorry."

"Oh boo you and your restrictions," Sarah scoffed. "This is the real world, not that imaginary unlimited world created by numbers and signals that lets you do whatever you want! Of course there's restrictions and hindrances! If your character wants to move somewhere, yes you have to actually walk there and not just click on someplace on the map. Yes, you actually have to make your own weapons and costumes and not miraculously conjure them out of thin air or ready-made in a shop. Yes, it takes effort. But guess what this game has, Michael, that all of your silly little RPGs **don't**. _You_ are role-playing, not some 2-inch tall elf or demon on a flat screen. _You_ are experiencing the adventure. And maybe you won't experience vitamin D deficiency from literally making yourself a vampire all the time. Or as I like to tell you – get off your lazy butt!"

"Hey," Michael protested, "I can't help it! I work on the computer and I work at home, what's wrong with that?"

"Nothing," Sarah snaps back, "Except you are 28 now and still you haven't been in a single meaningful romantic relationship. You have one real friend, ME, and all your gazillion nameless faceless comrades online don't count. The accomplishment you're most proud of is stupid, foolish, and most of all imaginary!" She ignored his fervent protest that conquering all of the existing RPGs and being titled the RPG God required quite a lot of skill thank-you-very-much and continued on her vicious tirade. "If not for my occasionally updating Auntie on your situation, _your_ parents would've thought you were dead a long time ago! You like playing games? Fine! Here are all these people who like it too." The petite redhead jabbed a finger furiously in his face and Michael briefly went cross-eyed trying to follow it … "Grow up, meet some _real _people, and get a life Michael. I'm going to get some food. Don't Follow Me." With that, Sarah spun around and walked briskly towards the campsite, leaving Michael staring dumbfounded at her retreating figure.

_Great. Now, what am I supposed to do? _

Sighing, the hapless RPG God mourned the disappearance of his meal ticket and ride home. He pulled out his featherlight wallet and juggled it – a few coins jostled and clung. _Maybe I should leave now and catch a bus home._ He eyed the endless forests and fields around him doubtfully. _Or maybe it's better to just walk and hope some folks take pity on a pathetic hitchhiker… _

Twenty minutes later and confidently sure that he had just passed the same tree mere minutes ago, Michael plunked down on the ground and was forced to conclude that he had no idea where he was going and no idea when he might arrive at the imaginary town/village/help center he had envisioned would be perfectly placed in the middle of dense and unpopulated areas. After all, that has always happened in the games… The only thing Michael was certain about was that he had absolutely no desire to venture near those brightly marked flags designating the event area for live action role playing. While he could pretend reasonably well in the middle of a scenario that he was simply interacting with other characters and completing a quest, he had no intention of interacting with those same characters in their real roles outside of the game. As the one person he _was_ willing to speak with was unfortunately not willing to speak with him, well, needless to say, his options were quite limited.

The pale brunette lied down on the moist forest floor, crossed his arms and pillowed his head. The serenity of the forest reminded him of his Bat Cave at home, a place for storing all of his cool tech and his Black Pearl PC, with its solid Core i7 processor, incredible RAM power, and truly incredible array of SATA connectors… Thinking about his baby always sends shivers down his spine...Michael reached a hand out to the dark canopy and can perfectly picture it, starting up its sleek black body, loading his thousands of programs, launching his universe – crafting a world that has opened up just for him and only him…

In the far distance, an ominous sound thundered and pulled the plug on his visualization, dissolving that perfect world in an instant. Michael jerked upright, stunned and irritated at the sudden disconnection. _Wha_— The sound roared again and synapses finally connected. Oh! _Oh… Sod it…Rain…rain…Why now?_

Cursing loudly, he leaped up and took off quickly in a direction he thinks was most likely not the direction he came from. _Come on….village, tree house, helpful elves, city, abandoned castle, enemy concave….just give me anything….._

The world flashed white in an instant and a nearby tree fizzed. One half of Michael's brain analyzed this scientifically – _vertical stripping of the bark, a common physical indicator of lightning striking a tree. Stripping rise straight up vertically and may physically interrupt vascular tissues conducting fluids in tree's cambial structures under the bark_ – the other half was flashing as white as the after-lightning world – _bugger bugger bugger _–

Driven by a logical panic, made that much worse by hysterical rationality, Michael charged blindly through the trees. _I can't die I can't die I can't get sick either … how can I play eight hour marathons if I'm ill…I can't die I can't die … _An insistent pounding at the back of his head pushed him further –

Y_ou should go back _– a small voice in his head insisted – _Go back? Back where? I can't go back, there's nothing back there _– The pounding in his head grew into thunderous clashes – _You have to go back, you HAVE to leave _– he fought back – _no no no there's killer lightning back there and Sarah who doesn't want to talk to me and strangers and lightning_

Michael crashed into the air, the world fizzes white again – _oh god oh god I'm been hit heal spell cure-all I need help help me help me help me help me I'm dying I'm dying _

The world turns, he stumbles, clutches his chest, and gasps as the aftershocks of his panic and adrenaline rockets in his body. He glances down frantically and checks himself for injuries (finding none, lucky) and then looks up. The sky has suddenly cleared and his migraine has vanished. That is all secondary however to the sudden overwhelming combination of relief, awe, and deep dismay that sunk into his heart. Before his eyes lays a sprawling array of picturesque cottages, charming mansions complete with smoking chimneys, and bustling folks wearing fancy robes and pointy hats bowing and curtseying to each other in greetings. There can be no doubt about what he had happened upon.

_Bugger, there are LARP events everywhere…_

Resigned to his fate, the brunette straightened his tunic-like contraption (which was really a curtain in disguise) and walked at a steady pace towards the little village. "Godric's Hollow" he noted was its name as he passed by a truly authentic wooden sign. _At least,_ Michael grudgingly admitted, _the set designs at this event lend an air of credibility. _Still, no matter how he admired their effort to recreate the fantasy world, he can't wait to get back to his own fantasy worlds in his nice safe London flat. Besides, he eyed the sinking red glows of the sun in dismay, he only came for a one-day event and unlike Sarah (who had promised to drive him home) had made no preparation to stay the night. _Better hurry, buses probably don't run after a while. _

Lost in thought, Michael almost stumbled over a matronly woman who almost fell over. For a moment, the gamer was at a lost – apologize, offer to assist her, or walk away and pretend he didn't do anything – the options scrolled through his head frantically before his character as a friendly gracious warrior reasserted itself.

"I humbly apologize, Madam," He bowed his head, "That was entirely my fault and I have caused you much trouble." The woman patted her costume before turning her smile upon him.

"My, what a charming young man. Never you mind, I actually have to apologize for walking into your way. You see, I saw you looking quite lost and figured I could lend a hand. I'm a bit of a gossiper," at this the woman leaned in as if to confide a great secret, "and a new face in town is always interesting news. We don't get many new faces in a little village like Godric's Hollow."

_Gossiper? Then she must be the Information Booth/Town Crier or is she just another helpful citizen? Player or NPC? If she is a NPC, she must be here to inform me about the current quest right? _

Stalling for time, Michael asked politely, "I'm sorry, you are?"

"Oh" she exclaimed "I forgot to introduce myself. I'm Bathilda Bagshot, a historian. If you had graduated from Hogwarts, you would have definitely read my books – A History of Magic was my most famous one and part of the curriculum at Hogwarts. And you are my dear?"

_Historian? Definitely a well of information – NPC then. _

"A History of Magic you say," He smiled to her, "I remember it. Quite a delightful read. I am Adrian and I'm simply here to visit some relatives." Inwardly, Michael snorted. When he had chosen Adrian as his fantasy name within the game, Sarah threw a fit, complaining that it was far too common. He supposed it was, especially in comparison to Ekvir, Elasod, Icevar, or Sarah's own Nirirkeh. It didn't break any of the naming rules though so Sarah had to reluctantly let it go. In order to convince him to come, she had to choose her battles carefully. Visiting relatives, he recalled fondly, was another contention. Despite being a "terribly see-through and pathetic excuse," Michael still stuck with it, not wanting to memorize a whole page of fake background and personal storyline just to play one adventure. Simple, efficient, and absolutely no dilly-dallying within the game – that was the deal he struck with Sarah. Michael could feel however that this woman, Madam Bagshot, was just not going to let him go and resigned himself to conversation.

"Relatives! Really?" Mme. Bagshot piped delighted. "How wonderful! Who are they my dear? You simply must tell me, I know positively every family in the town."

Viewing her inquisitive demeanor, Michael didn't doubt that for a second. But who… he glanced around frantically for a solution – Sarah had never mentioned that they needed a last name. "Err…My relatives…you see…they … they keep a low profile…they" The brunette stuttered as he searched for a story. His eyes darted from the garden gnomes to the clay pots in the yard of a cottage … wait, pots… in medieval times, people took names from their occupations. He could be a Butcher or a Farmer or might as well be a "Potter," He breathed out, "Yes, I'm Adrian Potter, here to visit the –"

"The Potters!" Bagshot cried out, "You're related to James? Oh of course, I should've known!" The woman peered at his face so closely that Michael took a couple steps back, uncomfortable with her closeness. "You have the same unruly hairstyle and that poor eyesight. The resemblance is uncanny!"

_Was it now?_ The brunette thought sardonically. His messy hairstyle – well he had never bothered to brush it this morning – and his nearsightedness – an unfortunate side-effect of staring at a computer nearly 24/7—of all the things to derive a false family connection from, the woman had capitalized on all of his worst traits. He was broken out of his thoughts when a warm hand clasped his arm.

"Oh, we simply must visit them together! I have yet to thank the lovely couple again for inviting me to young Harry's first birthday tea, simply a lovely event mind you. The young boy was a natural on the broomstick, whirred right past James and Sirius Black on that toy broomstick and gave Lily a right scare. Honestly, that Black character was always a ruffian, not the good sort you'd want around your children. I certainly don't understand why Lily lets him around Harry but from what I understand, James and Sirius were quite close at Hogwarts. Well nothing you can do about that, can you…."

As Bathilda rambled on about the (imaginary) lives of his so-called relatives, Michael can only be relieved that she didn't expect any more out of him than a couple nods and grunts of assent once in a while. He didn't think he can keep up with the creation of fake details for more than a couple of sentences.

"…well now we're getting close, the house is just around the street over there…I'm so glad you came of course, James and Lily have been so lonely in that house of theirs. Well, the Potter family is done to its last heir, well, was, since you're here none and Lily is muggleborn so you know her relatives don't really count. You'll certainly be quite a comfort for them and –"

Before Michael could wonder what exactly a muggleborn was and why that automatically discounted one's family, Bathilda Bagshot had completely frozen. He didn't need to ask why as the smell of ash, sulfur, and smoke momentarily overwhelmed his senses. In front of his eyes, the (Potter?) house was burning, its incandescent image lighting up the evening sky.

"Oh my, oh my, oh my, ….poor James and Lily…" Bagshot had released her iron grip on his arm and buried her face in her hair, weeping. Michael stood at a lost for a few seconds before turning to her and breaking out of character, "Hey, what's going on? What am I supposed to do? That's a real fire right?"

Bagshot continued moaning and shaking before pointing a trembling finger to the house. He followed her finger and gasped. Hidden by the shadows of the flame before but now clearly visible, a gigantic skull loomed over the house with an eerie snake crawling out of the jaw. Momentarily, Michael admired the effect. How had they done it? Hidden cameras, projectors, reflecting mirrors? The special effects of this set were _amazing_.

Meanwhile, Bagshot finally opened her mouth to spit out some coherent phrases. "The Dark Lord…he finally got them…oh poor James and Lily…poor Harry, so young, he was only a baby…" Michael furrowed his brow. The Dark Lord? Was that who the target is in this event? So slay the Dark Lord and complete the quest? That doesn't sound so bad…. He had slayed a dragon and rescued a princess in his first quest today. Might as well complete this so he can finally end the event and get a proper bus home.

Onlookers were already starting to gather around but none of them seemed willing to go inside and attempt it. The burning house was pretty daunting but now that he was taking a proper look, he can see that the flames were already dying out. _Looks like the pyrotechnicians have it under control_.

_Well, here goes nothing. _

Taking a deep breath and wrapping parts of his tunic (read: curtain) over his head, Adrian Potter (read: Michael the RPG God) heroically rushed into the burning house to vanquish the Dark Lord and save the day and …. rescue the baby?

Having passed by the treacherous first floor where the first fake corpse lied to the crumbling second floor, Michael stumbled upon a swarth of dark cloth, another fake corpse, tripped over a long stick, and found a baby, who was apparently real, fleshy, alive, and warm_. Using a baby to play the victim in an RPG game, isn't this child cruelty? Even if there's no real danger, the smoke could have caused serious lung damage... It doesn't really matter though, I'll give Bathilda the dark lord _(he glanced dubiously at the black cloth) _and the baby and then I'll catch a bus back home…._

Thinking quickly, he wrapped the baby up in its blankets, picked up the carved stick and used the tip to pick up the black cloth. It looked quite dirty and he didn't want to contaminate the baby by holding it too close to his body. Suddenly, Michael realized that this was the end; he was done and can go home now. Inexorably excited, he leaped down the stairs three at a time and burst out of the charred front door. Even the sight of so many onlookers staring at him didn't deter him from his happiness.

"I, Adrian Potter, vanquished the Dark Lord!" He proclaimed dramatically and threw down the black cloth. "From now on, we are free of evil!" _Frodo Baggins would be proud_. Michael grinned and pushed past the chattering crowd who kept on staring at him – _weird_ – and tried to find Bathilda, who was conspicuously absent.

_Where was she? Wasn't she my guide? Unless the NPC just leaves to find another person to lure to the quest? Bugger…I guess I have to find her again_…

He ran now through the streets of Godric's Hollow, exhausted but determined to put an end to this ridiculousness. _I am never ever coming to another event again, I swear, this is too much._ Half an hour later, Michael was about to give up. Bagshot had seemingly disappeared from every notch in the small village. He was tired, he hadn't eaten all day, his legs felt like jello, and he smelt like he should regularly attend Smokers Anonymous meetings. The streets were deserted as if every LARPer had left and he was the only one who didn't get the message. _Come to think of it, there was the sound of a motorcycle a while back…_

"Bloody Hell!" He shouted angrily at the empty street and jabbed his stick in the air. "Where can I get a sodding bus around here?"

**BANG!**

Michael was flung back and he wrapped his arms instinctively around his body tightly, only to encounter something warm and squishy. Distantly he registered it in his mind (oh yes, the baby, he didn't get to dump him yet) but the large triple decker contraption in front of him takes precedence.

The door popped open and before the conductor could say anything, Michael burst out uncharacteristically, "Do you go to London?"

"Of course—"

"Willeson Garden, if you please" Michael before pushing his way onto the bus.

The conductor sputtered, "Wait please sir-"

"What?" The gamer snapped.

"20 sickles please" Upon receiving Michael's confused look, the conductor elaborated, "The fare. From Godric's Hollow to Willeson Garden."

"Excuse me, 20 sickles you say?"

"Yes sir."

Michael took a deep breath to calm himself down. So they took over the transportation system as well. Very well, he can handle this.

"I defeated the Dark Lord." He told the conductor. Before the man could answer, Michael, seized by a fit of hysterics, took hold of the conductor's shoulders and shouted, "I. Defeated. Your. Bloody. Dark. Lord. over an hour ago and saved you all from a dreadful evil! Don't I even get a free ticket? Where's the justice in this? You tell me! WHERE?"

At this point, Stan Shunpike was ready to rule this man as delusional. It can't be helped after all. The Knight Bus was an emergency transportation service and often only transported those who were in dire and desperate situations. He looked at Ernie who simply shook his head and sighed to himself. _Curse my mum and my conscience. _

"Have a bed sir. Forget the fare." He nodded to the crazed man and waved to Ernie, "Take her away, Ern."

The Knight Bus shot away into the night, an event that would have greatly disturbed the sensible but imaginative Michael Faulk if he hadn't already sunk deep into dreamland. He landed in Willeson Garden, walked to his flat blearily, and collapsed into his bed, all thoughts except for sleep erased. Outside his window, thousands of owls swooped by in the night and continue to haunt the skies even until late afternoon the next day. Out on the streets, strangely garbed people approached all with good cheer and festive spirit and greatly disturbed the ordinary folk. Should Michael Faulk have seen these strange occurrences, he would have never dared to leave his flat again, for fear that his one experience with LARP would've drawn every single fanatic to him forever. But alas, he didn't! Even as he awoke the next morning, even as he screamed in alarm to discover the very real existence of the very real baby that he picked up last night, even as he simply fed the baby to shut it up so he can concentrate and reorient his world with a gaming marathon, he discovered no particular oddness to his world aside from the oddness that resulted from his own actions. He stayed indoors and isolated, not knowing that at that moment, people meeting in secret all over the country were holding up their glasses and saying in hushed voices: "To Adrian Potter – the Man Who Vanquished the Dark Lord!"

Thus began the Nathan Faulk's life with Michael Faulk in 56 Willeson Garden who under his screen name HJP (assigned to him ever since he was a baby) began a new legend as the son of God.

Endnote: I realized as I was writing this that some hardcore gamers might take offense at my portrayal of Michael as a socially obtuse, completely unwilling to interact with anyone, fellow. This is not meant to reinforce the common stereotype of gamers or reflect my own views – Michael has some unique situations in the past that made him the way he is. This is completely unrelated to gaming.

Please give me feedback!


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